Hope's Door

The infant opens his eyes to the world of voices and faces surrounding him.

Three figures stood over him—a man with gentle eyes and a broad smile, a woman whose embrace felt like home, and an elderly woman whose eyes sparkled with wisdom and something else, something mischievous.

'So, that must be my father,' he thought, observing the man's broad shoulders and kind expression. 'And she, she must be my mother. And that old woman... well, she's just a weird grandma.'

He turned his attention back to the conversation. The cadence of their speech offered clues, and he began to piece together fragments of their language—gestures accompanying words, adding depth and meaning to the sounds he heard.

'I wonder if they'll give me a name,' he mused silently, as he realized after all this time not once has he been referred to with a unique call that's only used for himself.

His gaze drifts around the room. The other babies sleeping peacefully in their beds. They seemed so serene, unaware of the momentousness of this conversation.

The room was softly illuminated by a single candle held by the old woman, casting shadows that flickered on the walls.

'Do candles always light a room this well? Or is it my eyes that can see well in low light? Maybe all of us here share this ability?' He felt a sense of curiosity stirring within him, a desire to understand more of this new world he found himself in.

He focused on the sounds around him, trying to decipher their meaning. The rhythm of their speech provided context, and he began to piece together the puzzle of their language—words and phrases slowly gaining meaning in his ears.

'So that word means this, and that phrase means something like that, okay, okay, that's one way to use it...' he wondered silently.

Suddenly, he felt a pair of eyes on him and looked up to meet the gaze of the old woman. Startled, he quickly looked away, feigning interest in something on the other side across the room. When he dared to look back, he found the old woman grinning at him, a smile that seemed warm yet holding a hint of something secretive.

'What's her deal?' he wondered, intrigued and wary of the old woman. 'This weird old grandma.'

As the conversation continued around him, he nestled closer to his mother, finding comfort in her embrace. The voices washed over him like a soothing melody, and he knew that he was safe here, surrounded by love and warmth. 'There's so much to learn hoamm...'. Sleep has claimed the infant.

- - - - -

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and during that time, he had made remarkable progress. Marking his seventh month according to earth's time that he's familiar with, he could stand, walk, and even jump—an astonishing rate of development that outpaced the other babies.

He could now mumble some audible words, an ability that amazed the caregivers. But he wasn't alone in this rapid development; three others from his batch were similarly advanced. These four could now stand on their legs, even though most of them need to hold onto their bed's railing.

'What a double prison I'm in,' he thought to himself, glancing at the railing he gripped for balance. 'This bed's a prison, this tiny, weak body as well. Ughh.'

When he first showed signs of walking, the caregivers were surprised. They picked him up and carried him to a different room. This new room was a lot more spacious with sunlight streaming through the windows. Unlike the nursery, it had no beds but was filled with diapers, baby-sized chairs and tables, toys, and a row of cabinet built near the roof framing.

As he observed the room, he heard children laughing and rustling sound coming from beyond the walls, but in this room he saw no other child.

'So there are children playing somewhere,' he mused. 'Is it still the nursing facility, or are they outside? How do I go outside?' His curiosity was growing desperate.

* * * * *

Several nights before, something strange had happened during the usual singing time. He had tried to make sense of the words he heard over and over, but without context, they remained abstruse. He wondered where his parents were, why they hadn't visited him in months, and what kind of culture would do this to a baby? Despite his confusion, he acknowledged that this culture works just fine—after all, the babies were healthy.

'Everything is managed quite well, this culture has quite the interesting system...'

Suddenly a faint yellowish glow appeared in front of him, taking the form of a square, a sheet of light. Startled, he tried to grab it, but his hand passed through it. Gradually, shapes began to form within the light. Bewildered, he rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of the phenomenon before him. But, exhaustion soon overpowered him, 'Aw come on!' he grumbled, frustrated by the limitations of his tiny, weak body.

* * * * *

In the well-lit room, the infant sat playing with a wooden toy, but his attention was repeatedly drawn to the faint glowing light that lingered before him. He stared at it, puzzled and frustrated. 'What on earth is this thing?!' he thought, 'and why won't it go away?'

His tiny hands swiped at the air, trying to shoo the light away. He chanted phrases like, "Turn off! Go away! Lights out!" with each attempt only to find the light still hovering above his toys.

The caregiver, tidying up the room, noticed the commotion. In her eyes, he was just a cute baby throwing a tantrum and mumbling at his toys. She approached him with a gentle smile. "What do you want little buddy?" she cooed, picking him up and taking him around the room. She stopped at the window and held him up so he could look outside.

The baby calmed down as he gazed out the window. He reached his tiny hands toward the window's railing and gripped it tightly, absorbing the view of the outside world. The caregiver spoke softly to him, "Those are the tribe's members."

His eyes followed every movement of the person he sees on the other side of the window. He grumbled and pointed his open and grasping palms towards a specific area where several tribe members were training and wrestling with each other, both males and females.

The caregiver chuckled at his curiosity. "Those are the tribe's young warriors preparing for their first hunt," she explained in a language his tiny brain doesn't yet understand. "After the hunt, they will make a name for themselves and become true warriors of the tribe."

As he observed the scene, he realized something he hadn't noticed before: everyone in the tribe was big and muscular. He turned his gaze to the caregiver and noticed her well-built physique. He then thought about another person he saw the most—the weird grandma. Even she was well-built. His parents, too, were strong and muscular.

'What's the deal with this tribe, why is everyone so obsessed with having muscles?' he wondered. 'Do they naturally develop that kind of physique, or is it the result of some sort of training?'

The more he looked, the more questions pops in and out of his mind. He sighed internally, feeling the weight of curiosity pressing down on him.

The caregiver noticed his intense focus and gave him a gentle squeeze.

"You're quite the curious one, aren't you?"

"Stop it, it hurts," he said, which only translates to cute grumbles.

He's still gripping the window railing as he watched the young warriors train.

'One day, I'll go outside and find out everything about this place and why am I here'

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the training ground, his determination grew stronger. He had a lot to learn and even more to discover, but for now, he would bide his time, gathering knowledge and strength, waiting for the day when he could explore the world beyond the nursery's walls.